


Mistletoe Kisses

by lunacosas



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacosas/pseuds/lunacosas
Summary: He doesn't expect company.Jaskier finds him anyway.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Mistletoe Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my attempt at being festive! Here goes...

Jaskier/Eskel, SFW, modern AU ****

-

He doesn’t expect company. In the living room he can hear Lambert arguing loudly with Geralt over the rules of the game, Vesemir laughing, and the playlist Jaskier chose for them threading through the warm sounds. The last of the dishes are placed carefully back in the cupboard, Eskel’s hands warm and uncomfortably dry from the dishwater. He’s rubbing them carefully as he turns, stopping short when he finds Jaskier standing in the doorway, smiling as he watches Eskel. The jumper he’s wearing is both obnoxious and endearing, hung with fuzzy balls and little bells, and it’s been jingling all day with every move he makes. Somehow, Eskel missed it as he approached.

“I thought you went to the bathroom,” Jaskier says, lingering.

Dropping his own hands, Eskel shrugs, averting his gaze. Jaskier always looks right at him, his gaze unflinching in a way that Eskel neither understands nor can keep from being flustered by. “I did, but I thought it best to get this over with.”

“You should have let me come help!”

“You’re our guest,” Eskel points out, and drops his hand the moment he realises he’s been touching his scar.

“Hmm, still…” Jaskier hums, and that seems, thankfully, to be the end of it, because Eskel is never sure what to do with Jaskier’s unrestrained eagerness to help. “Let’s go back, then.”

* * *

He nods, hearing a particularly loud yell of protest from Lambert, followed by Geralt’s raucous laughter. “After you,” he invites.

“You know,” Jaskier starts, and then becomes distracted as Eskel draws near, his attention lifting towards the ceiling. “Oh! Mistletoe!”

There isn’t any. Eskel would know if there was. Their house has not been decorated with it – holly, yes, mistletoe no – but before he can so much as look to check his sanity is still intact, he feels Jaskier’s weight against him, warm, sweetened lips pressing against his own. He chokes in surprise, falling back a step and bumping against the doorframe as his heart reaches a dangerously fast tempo. “Jaskier…”

He looks up, and sees that there is mistletoe, held aloft by a fuzzy-balled, jangly-belled arm. Jaskier, when Eskel looks back towards him, is grinning. “It’s good luck.”

“Why...? Why would you…?”

Jaskier cocks his head, as if Eskel’s question is curious. “Why would I what?”

“Kiss me.”

“Oh, Eskel, please,” Jaskier beams, seeming pleased with himself. “I’ve been carrying this around all day waiting for the perfect opportunity!”

“Couldn’t you have asked one of my brothers?” he asks, even though the thought of Jaskier kissing Geralt or Lambert makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Well, that would have been a bit weird. ‘Hi, mind holding this while I kiss your brother under it? Thanks ever so much!’”

There’s a pause, and Eskel is very aware of the fact that Jaskier is still holding the sprig of white berries and deep green leaves aloft.

“It’s you I want to kiss, Eskel. If, you know, you’d like to do that. Again. I mean…” he’s smiling still, gesturing above himself with a jerk of his chin, but beneath the confidence there’s a tender earnestness. “Seizing the moment and all.”

Seizing the moment, Eskel thinks, not quite understanding what is happening, or why.

Jaskier is still standing there, not shying away or hiding, not laughing at him or flinching as Eskel takes half a step forward and carefully leans in.

Jaskier meets him halfway, the jangle of his bells muted by the weight of Eskel’s body. His arm falls, looping around Eskel’s neck, and the thin excuse of mistletoe wavers and dissipates as Eskel’s hands find Jaskier’s waist, his lips parting to let Jaskier control the kiss. It’s warm and sweet, heavy and light with longing and joy, and there’s nothing Eskel wouldn’t give in that moment to hold onto it forever.

When they pull back, he finds himself breathless. He feels flushed enough to match Geralt’s jumper and the… fuck. He’s still wearing the hideous fake reindeer antlers Vesemir ‘gifted’ him earlier.

Jaskier beams at him. “Third time lucky?”

“What was wrong with the first two times?” he wonders, reaching up to remove the antlers.

“Nothing! I just want an excuse to kiss you again.” Jaskier reaches up too, his hand stopping Eskel’s. “And leave them. You look cute.”

No one ever calls him cute. Eskel has no idea what to do with the word.

“Very, very cute.”

They’re close again. Eskel isn’t quite sure how it happened. “Stop teasing,” he breathes, his attention falling to Jaskier’s damp, rosy lips. It would be so easy to kiss him again.

“Oh no, I’m not teasing. I’m deadly serious,” Jaskier says. “You’re very, very, _very_ cute.”

“And you’re very talkative.”

“Usually helps me get what I want.”

“Does it really?”

“Mhm.”

“Is it working for you now?”

“Think so. What do you think?”

Eskel hums. He’s not really thinking. He’s feeling full and happy and content, warm with the weight of Jaskier in his arms, the softness of his breath caressing his lips. He realises that, at some point, he started smiling. “Maybe.”

His hand finds its way to Jaskier’s, cupping and lifting it up so that the mistletoe is above them again. There’s a soft ‘oh!’ as Jaskier realises he’s going to get what he wants and blossoms at the realisation, his breathtakingly gorgeous blue eyes alight with joy. The noise from the living room is forgotten, their own breath of silence made of two tender heartbeats dancing together as one as they kiss.

When they rejoin the others they do so hand in hand, their fingers interlaced. Jaskier toys with the mistletoe, but it’s no longer needed. They’ll talk later, Eskel knows, and it’ll be the best gift he’s ever received.


End file.
